


Fashion Show?

by havocthecat



Category: Angel: the Series, Gilmore Girls
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Gen Fic, Prophecy, Utterly Ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-13
Updated: 2006-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havocthecat/pseuds/havocthecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Rory Gilmore graduated and then joined the Watchers.  And became friends with Angel.  And that the entire last season or two of Angel basically didn't happen.  Can be considered gen, or with hints of Angel/Wesley ust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fashion Show?

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here on LJ](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/317328.html?style=mine).

"Tweed?" asked Angel, his jaw dropping. "Come on, Rory, please don't ask me to do this."

Rory looked at Angel over the glasses she didn't need, but wore anyway, because it made her look more intellectual than the average Watcher. "I'm not asking that much. I participated in the leather fashion show back in high school!"

"Yeah, but I was evil then," said Angel, his voice grating perilously close to a whine.

"And you're good now," said Rory, flipping through a book of patterns. " _And_ we just stopped an apocalypse last week, which means that you owe me, which means that you need to be in the tweed fashion show."

"But--" Angel paused and looked helpless. "It's tweed."

Rory held up a picture of a nice, earthy brown tweed suit. "What do you think?" she asked curiously.

"Not even Spike would wear something that awful," said Angel flatly.

"You're right," said Rory. She glanced at the picture, then back up at Angel. "What about if it's in black?" 

Angel studied the picture, considering it. "Black might work. If I were going to be in your show. Which I'm not."

"Of course you are," said Rory, putting the pattern book down and patting him on the arm. "Because if you're not, the world is going to end. There's a prophecy."

"A prophecy?" Angel shook his head rapidly. "No. _No._ There are no tweed prophecies."

"Are you sure?" she asked, reaching for an ancient, dusty book. "Because the Sumerian kinda translates pretty accurately as 'tweed,' and if you're not in tweed next Tuesday, the world is gonna end."

Sumerian prophecies were almost never wrong. And even if it was, he couldn't take a chance on an apocalypse. Angel's shoulders slumped. "Fine," he said glumly. "Black tweed. Next Tuesday. As you wish. Please tell me Giles won't be there."

"Oh, no, he's still in Paris," said Rory. She straightened suddenly, excited. "But Wesley's gonna be there! And he's in the show too!"

Suddenly, the tweed fashion show was looking a little more interesting.

\--end--


End file.
